


Learning To Fly

by Isis



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser learns to use his wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for stop_drop_porn.

Ray's breathing changed from the steady rhythm of sleep to something faster and more self-aware. Fraser put aside the magazine he'd found on Ray's bedside table, scooted his chair a little closer to the bed, and waited for him to come to full wakefulness.

Ray shifted and turned on the bed. The tousled blond mop on the pillow moved, transforming into Ray's head; he lifted his face toward Fraser and opened his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" said Fraser.

"I always knew you were an angel," Ray said in a slow, sleepy voice.

Fraser smiled down at him. "A bit of an exaggeration, I'm afraid."

"Lemme see those wings again."

"You rescued me," said Ray. "We were chasing the Benellis across the roof and Dino shot at me and I was gonna fall over the edge and you rescued me, do not say that you didn't, Fraser, because I was there." His voice was no longer sleepy, and his eyes, fixed on Fraser, were sharp.

He would have to tread carefully. "Of course I rescued you. It was a tricky jump, but we landed on a balcony not too far down."

"And then you picked me up and you flew back here. With wings. Big white ones." Ray squirmed up against the headboard into a sitting position, then immediately winced. "Ow, fuck, what did I do to my ankle?"

"You landed badly when you fell. I don't think it's broken, just twisted, but I don't think you should walk on it for a few days."

"See?" Ray's voice was triumphant. "I couldn't walk, so you picked me up and flew back to my apartment."

"You must have been hallucinating. I carried you -"

"I know what I saw, Fraser, and I saw wings."

"Well. As you can see, I don't have wings any more, so -"

"No, I can't see. Take off your shirt." Suddenly Ray frowned and squinted at him. "Hey, that's _my_ shirt."

It was Ray's shirt, and a pair of Ray's sweatpants, as well. Fraser had changed into them while Ray was unconscious; his own uniform had been shredded by his reckless actions on the rooftop. Guiltily he glanced at the neat pile of cloth in the corner. But it had been a choice, the uniform or Ray's life, and that was no choice at all.

Sighing, he began unbuttoning the shirt. "You've seen me shirtless before, as I recall. On more than one occasion. But if you insist." 

"Closer," said Ray. Obediently Fraser sat on the edge of the bed, facing away so that Ray could examine his back. A warm finger touched the base of his spine. "Where Vecchio shot you."

It wasn't a question, but Fraser said, "Yes."

The finger traced a line up his back, soft electricity on his bare skin that left goosebumps and shivers in its wake, and he fought the urge to arch back into the touch. He would tell Ray it was just the cool air in the room, if he asked.

Surely Ray could not see the marks on his shoulder blades, not in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Fraser had assured himself many times, looking over his shoulder at a mirror, that even in bright light they were nearly invisible. And if anybody noticed them, they were easily explained: freckles that had by chance arranged themselves in lines, random stars making up constellations.

But unerringly Ray's finger went to the marks; first one, then the other. "This is where they come out, huh."

Again, it wasn't a question. Powerless against the quiet certainty in Ray's voice, he remained silent.

"Show me."  


He turned to look at him, and the expression on Ray's face made his breath catch in his throat. Fraser had expected - well, he wasn't sure what he had expected. Confusion. Fear, maybe. Curiosity, definitely. But Ray looked smug and a little proud, as though he had known it all along and Fraser's actions had only confirmed it; and there was a tiny bit of defiance in his gaze, as though he was daring Fraser to trust him, to show him.

And he trusted him. So he would show him.

Slowly he stood, turning sideways to the bed. Looking Ray in the eye, he unfurled his wings. There was just enough room; his right wingtip almost touched the closet door, and his left wing stretched across the bed, where Ray lay.

"Wow," breathed Ray. "Wow. That's something." His hand rose from the bed, hovered just in front of Fraser's left wing. "Can I?"

Fraser hesitated. Nobody had ever touched his wings. Few people had even seen them, and just the invisible weight of someone else's eyes seemed almost too much, like a shivery presence on his skin just beyond sensation. It seemed an oddly intimate act, not like touching an arm or a shoulder.

But Ray touched his arm and shoulder frequently, and Fraser had to admit that he'd often wondered what it would be like for Ray to touch him elsewhere. So he nodded, and Ray reached across the short distance between them to stroke the fine white feathery substance that formed his wings.

"Ah!" Fraser's head tilted back, his neck arching, his eyes closing. If Ray's touch earlier on his bare back had been electric, this was lightning; the tingle of arousal he'd felt then was magnified ten times, a hundred times, rocketing through his wings, down his spine, across his skin.

The hand was instantly withdrawn. "Jeez, I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he felt the heat rush into his face. "No, no. Not hurt," he said, and his eyes flickered involuntarily toward his groin, where the shape of his erection was clearly outlined under the sweat pants.

Ray's eyes followed, widened. "Oh, man, Frase, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I didn't, either."

"Felt good, though."

"Yes." It was almost a whisper, taking all of his control.

Ray's mouth curved into the hint of a smile. "No, I mean - I liked how it felt, touching your wing. Real soft, but there's this energy, right under the surface, all tense and hot and ready to explode, you know?"

Fraser closed his eyes again, because oh, God, he knew. Just listening to Ray's voice was almost unbearable, listening to the way he hissed the sibilants, the light growl as his voice dropped at "hot," the soft plosive that parted his lips. Ray's tongue curved around the words, caressing them, and Fraser knew he should just retract his wings, tuck them away, breathe slowly and deeply until the wave of desire passed.

He should. But when he opened his eyes, Ray was looking at him with such naked yearning that he could not help himself. Gently he lowered his wing just enough to brush against Ray's arm.

Even though he was ready for the sensation, he still shivered and gasped as it rippled through him; dimly he heard Ray gasp in answer. "God, _Fraser_." Ray's other hand reached around his waist, cool on his bare skin, and pulled him onto the bed until he was kneeling astride Ray's body, looking down on him.

"Please," whispered Ray. The hand around Fraser's waist slipped forward and cupped his erection for an instant, so briefly that he might have thought he'd imagined it; then it traveled lightly up his torso, a momentary touch of palm on hard nipple, before curving over his shoulder and pulling him forward slightly. Ray's other hand went to Fraser's opposite shoulder, resting there for a moment before both hands slid outward and onto his wings, and Fraser groaned with the glory of it.

Ray's hands moved gently, outward and downward, smoothing the fine downy hairs. "So soft, Fraser, you have no idea," he murmured, urging one wing closer to his face, and Fraser let himself be bent down toward him, helpless with the pleasure that radiated from every stroke. Ray's teasing fingers seemed to know exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to exert, and Fraser's wings quivered, aching for more.

Ray leaned forward a fraction and pressed his lips to Fraser's wing, and then his tongue, rough and wet and, _oh_. Fraser moaned and shifted, trying to get more of the sensation as Ray mouthed the edge of his wing, his tongue tracing the structure of featherlets and ridges. His wings beat lightly against the air in an involuntary motion, curving toward Ray as Ray slid his mouth along the length of one wing, folding toward the pleasure, reaching around in a great arc to hold Ray close as he licked and sucked and breathed hotly onto the sensitive feathery skin.

"Ray, oh, please, yes," he said, and he knew he was babbling, couldn't help it, couldn't keep from it, his arms and his wings blindly reaching out to pull Ray closer, tightly against him. And then Ray sucked an edge of his wing fully into his mouth, tonguing the ridge that Fraser had never realized was so sensitive, and Fraser's arms tightened, rocking Ray's torso against his groin, and he felt himself explode into a million pieces, gasping and moaning and coming, shaking against Ray with tiny fast tremors like the wingbeats of a hummingbird.

At the edge of his awareness he felt Ray's mouth slip from his wing, felt Ray's hands slide off the feathery edges and down to his hips, guiding his body, pulling him down to meet his thrusts. Ray was hard against him, thickly erect in his jeans; Fraser reached down between them, and Ray moved one hand to help. Together they unsnapped and unzipped, and then Ray was thrusting, hot and desperate into their joined hands.

"God, Fraser," panted Ray, sliding his hand from Fraser's hip and up to brush against the edge of his wing. Despite the afterglow of orgasm, Fraser still felt the frisson of electricity from the touch. His wing twitched involuntarily against Ray's arm; Ray gasped and shook, his grip tightening on Fraser's fingers and his erection, and with a groan he came.

For a few moments they lay there, intertwined. Then Fraser stretched like a cat, pulling back from Ray and arching his back; his wings first extended and stretched, then retracted completely, folding and compressing and disappearing under his skin.

"Wow," said Ray. Tentatively he reached up to touch Fraser's shoulder blade, his fingers smoothing wonderingly over the unbroken skin. "You really are a freak, you know that?" 

But the fondness in his voice was unmistakable, and Fraser grinned. "So you've told me many times."


End file.
